Arthur Weasley: And This is Life
by Nightengale
Summary: Stories in the early adult and parent life of Arthur Weasley made up of shorter stories written in 2005-2008 and tweaked up! Best if read after "Youth or Something Like it" and "The Early Years." This is the last of the big Arthur trilogy.
1. Children

Their first child was born in 1970. He was 7 pounds, 5 ounces, and 21 inches long. Molly was in labor for 10 hours; it would have been 17 without the healer's potions and special charms.

During the labor Molly had screamed a lot.

"Arthur! What were you thinking? I hate you!"

It had been her idea to have the child, not that he hadn't whole heartedly agreed.

"Oh, Merlin! Arthur!"

He'd held her hand and breathed just as heavily as her. While she shouted at him, he hit the healers with a barrage of increasingly nervous questions.

"Why is it taking so long? Is this normal?"

"Yes, Mr. Weasley."

"But why is she still in pain? You gave her a potion! Will she be alright?"

"Yes, Mr. Weasley."

He was probably annoying them but none of the healers kicked him out. They must have seen lots of shouting wives and concerned husbands before. Molly's hand felt so sweaty Arthur wondered how he could hold on for so long. She looked terrible through the labor, her hair sticking to her forehead.

When the 10 hours were over and the baby born, Arthur suddenly realized that he was a father. He and Molly had brought life into the world. This baby born was theirs.

Later, when Molly was resting, the two sat holding their baby. Arthur hovered a bright ball above the new baby's head with his wand. The little boy's eyes blinked slowly, looking up at it.

"He's so small," Arthur murmured.

"He certainly didn't feel small," Molly said, caressing the baby's arm.

Arthur let the ball drop and he touched his child's head, soft and new to the world.

"This is our baby, Molly," Arthur grinned, "ours!"

"We need to name him. I told you, you could name the first baby. So?"

Arthur looked down at the small baby nestled in Molly's arms. He was quiet, had been even when he'd just come out. His little arms were pressed together in front of his chest, content to just lie in his mother's arms. As Arthur Looked at him, small blue eyes opened and looked up at him.

"Let's call him William."

Molly smiled leaning over and kissing Arthur on the cheek. Then she turned back to the baby.

"Hello, William," She said.

Arthur was happy.

* * *

When their second child was born Arthur wanted to name the boy Charles after his father. To most people this naming would seem like a normal honoring of one's father. However, this was not entirely the case.

Molly had agreed right away. In fact she had wondered why Arthur hadn't wanted to name Bill after his father. Arthur failed to comment on that point at the time.

"Charles is such a wonderful name, Arthur," she'd said when she was five months along and he'd asked her about his idea.

"Good thing it was my father's name then."

Molly laughed. "Very good for the baby."

They both looked down at her bulging belly. Arthur smiled contently and took her currently swollen hand. As pregnant women went, Molly, so far, had borne pregnancy remarkably well. Bill had been a long birth but a very easy pregnancy as this next baby was turning out to be as well. She rarely got morning sickness and didn't often complain. Granted, during her first pregnancy and this one she always craved trout as well as sliced grapes mixed in chocolate pudding. It was rather amusing.

"You know," Molly said, waving their joined hands from side to side, "you'll have to tell your father about this. I wonder what he'll say."

Arthur nodded.

Of course he wanted to name a child after his father but that was not just it. He also wanted this child to know he was special and not just a second or middle child. Arthur and Molly both wanted to have more children after this one. If they did have a third child that would make this one, Charles, the middle child.

"Shall we owl him now?" Molly asked.

"Molly! We haven't even found out from the mediwizards if it's actually a boy for sure."

She turned with a 'huh' and walked to the kitchen, "Arthur, you know the mediwizards aren't the only ones with magic pertaining to birth."

Arthur folded his hands and stared her down.

"It's a boy, Arthur. I know."

Arthur would not allow Charles to feel second best, as if his parents love could not be spared for him. So, he would name Charles and be specially named after his grandfather. Arthur would make sure little Charlie never felt as Arthur had when he grew up.

* * *

The banquet was held for the passage of the new muggle protection laws and the new beast and being laws. Arthur had found it amusing in a cynical way to begin with that laws pertaining to muggles and beasts got put together for a banquet. Some of those in attendance would have liked to group the muggle laws under beast laws. At least, Arthur thought, he had fought hard to avoid such extremism as that.

Still the banquet was held, Molly wore her little black robe, and Arthur gave a short speech. He had been nervous about speaking at such a fancy event. Arthur knew he wasn't exactly the most glamorous man at the Ministry. He'd been a bit afraid that everyone would just talk right through his speech and pay no attention. However, Molly stroked his ego and helped him prepare just what to say.

"You're not going to mess up or embarrass yourself," she'd said to him over the kitchen table. "No one cares about muggles more than you and when you really care about something you can speak to anyone well if you just let go."

Molly always knew what to say to calm him and get him to move beyond any fear in his way. Sometimes Arthur was just taken aback about how amazing she was.

So, Arthur stood up at the silver podium and spoke about treating muggles with respect, protecting them from the harms and abuse of magic, and how thankful he was to all those who aided in the passage of the laws. All in all things had gone smoothly. He got his applause, sat down, ate his dinner, and mingled with a drink in his hand. Then Molly left his side to go speak with Andromeda Tonks and Arthur suddenly found himself standing in front of William Blake, his one and only ex-boyfriend.

"Hello, William."

"Hello, Arthur," William replied, hands clasped behind his back.

Garbed in light gray robes with a thick black pattern, William looked much more adult than when Arthur had last seen him at Hogwarts. Three buttons closed the collar of William's robe up around his neck, complete with a black boarder around the top edge. His light brown hair was slightly long, just to the bottom of his ears. In fact his black pointed hat actually forced one clump of his hair down to cover his left eye a little. Despite his somewhat unkempt hair, his dress and posture showed that William was no child anymore. The simple fact was that William looked very good.

"What are you doing here, William? I didn't think you worked for the Ministry?" Arthur asked.

"I don't but a friend of mine does in the beast division. I'm his guest for the occasion."

"Ah," Arthur nodded, shifting his feet once.

It wasn't hard to feel the tension between them. It hadn't grown too heavy yet but Arthur knew it would. Six years had passed since they had last seen each other and William hadn't really been talking to him then. Looking at William's face, Arthur thought he didn't seem angry. Really he looked a bit awkward and unsure like Arthur. Perhaps he wanted to heal the breach.

"So, uh... It's been a while, William."

William laughed. "Yeah, like 5 years… oh wow, closer to 10 isn't it?"

"Well, it's been 6. I can't believe it's been that long since Hogwarts."

The two of them started walking through the crowds of people, weaving an easy path as they spoke. Stopping at one of the drink tables they refilled on punch.

"So," Arthur started as he sipped his punch, "what are you doing these days?"

"Oh, well, I'm doing out patient work with St. Mungo's. I'm helping patients who have been seriously injured by Death Eater attacks to try and get them back to normal life; relearn simple magic if it's that severe, things like that."

Arthur blinked in surprise and grinned widely. "That's wonderful! I can't believe you're doing something like that, sounds difficult."

"Oh, well, I've had plenty of training."

Finding an empty table they sat down. Then the conversation stopped. William looked like he wanted to say something. He started to speak once then looked away, gulping down the rest of his punch.

Deciding to take the lead, Arthur asked, "So, is this friend from the bestiary just a friend?" He raised an eyebrow trying to put some humor into the conversation.

"Uh, yes," William said turning back to look at Arthur, "yes, he is." He paused. "Are you still with Molly?"

Arthur blinked again. "Yes, um, yes. We're married."

"What!" William snapped in surprise then closed his mouth quickly blanching. "I'm sorry… I just…" He looked a little shaky. "I just hadn't heard."

"Oh…" Arthur said, unsure of what to do.

"Well, I... I've been in France a lot. We… we, uh… we send a lot of patients there to… to help with recovery."

"Oh. Well, it was a rather small service, not surprising you might not have heard. We actually have two sons now," Arthur added with a note of fatherly pride in his voice.

William's eye widened, "Two sons?"

"Bill and Charlie," Arthur said, feeling the trend of the conversation starting to veer down a dangerous path.

"Bill?" William took a deep breath. "Bill as in William?"

Arthur put down his glass of punch but did not say anything. He should have known the conversation would end up like this. Let it come.

"Why is your son named William, Arthur?" His voice was very quiet.

He dodged the question. "It's a good name."

Then William smacked the table, knocking Arthur's glass over and making him jump in his chair.

"Don't even, Arthur!" Anger was now coming out of William in waves. "What am I supposed to think when I hear that from you?"

Arthur put his hands down flat against the table, speaking slowly, trying to calm William. "You don't need to think anything. It's just a name."

"The name of your son, Arthur and my name; clearly, not a coincidence!"

"William, please," Arthur stood as he spoke.

Other guests at neighboring tables were beginning to stare. William stood up too and strode away from the table. Taking a deep breath, Arthur followed William out into the hall. William was already pacing when Arthur came out.

"Will, I know you're not just upset about my son's name."

"No, Arthur." William stopped pacing and stood in front of Arthur closer than normal comfort distance. "I'm upset, I… I learn suddenly that you're married, MARRIED, to Molly Prewett and now you have two children! Arthur do you know how I- How that makes me…" He stopped speaking for a moment huffing then started pacing again.

"Will, you need to relax."

"Relax!"

"William, please!" Arthur snapped. "It's been eight years since we were together. It's not like we haven't gone on with our lives!"

William stopped pacing and made a pained sort of noise then rounded on Arthur again.

"Well, I'm sorry. It all ended rather abruptly for me. You may have been swooning after that… that girl for awhile before you broke things off with me but on my end it was a rather big surprise!"

"I think you have had time to get over it." Arthur was trying to stay calm but cutting remarks kept leaving his mouth despite his will.

"Sometimes it's not that simple, Arthur! It hurt, a lot! I was so happy with you, deliriously and then you crushed me! You just threw me away!"

"William, I wasn't in love with you anymore!"

"Well, what about your son's name then? Eight years and you name your son after me?"

"I -" Arthur hadn't expected that but he was mad now and didn't want to be the good one. "Did I say that?"

"Then why did you name your son William?"

"I told you; it's a good name."

Arthur crossed his arms.

"Bollocks!" William yelled, stepping back into Arthur's personal space.

"All right!" Arthur said, stepping backward, "I named him after you."

"But why?" William insisted.

"Because I cared about you once."

"Cared? Cared about me? You said then that you loved me." William was breathing heavily. "So… you've named your son after me because you loved me like I love you!" He gasped out then halted a shocked look on his face.

Arthur stared at him and William just stared back slowing his breathing.

"Loved," said William, quietly, "like I loved you."

Arthur did not respond. They fell silent then, neither looking at each other. Arthur couldn't believe they were arguing about his now. Six years since Hogwarts and Arthur was still haunted by the heart he broke, still swallowed by the guilt. Then, as if in answer to his thoughts, William spoke.

"You really hurt me thing Arthur. I cried myself to sleep a lot and no one could make me feel better. I couldn't think of anyone else but you. I almost got a T in charms that year. Then even when it changed to a dull ache it was still there. I couldn't believe you had done that to me like that." He looked back at Arthur now. "You didn't give me anymore reasons or anything after that one night when you dumped me."

"You walked away!" Arthur broke in.

"You could have followed! Instead you took the easy way out and let me suffer. I just had to pick up the pieces of myself while you went off into your glorious new straight relationship."

"Stop it, William. This is the past. We were just children then."

William scoffed. "Children? I wouldn't say that Arthur. I, at least, was able to fall in love then."

"Will, please…"

"It's the truth."

"An old truth long gone," Arthur's voice was flat.

"Doesn't seem to be so long gone, does it?"

Arthur had to detach himself from this. He had a new family to provide for and protect. He did not need William throwing guilt at his feet again. Arthur could not save everyone. Everyone made mistakes and this was one of his but there was no way he could fix it.

William took a few more steps away from Arthur, turning around so his back was facing him.

"I don't know why I even came over to talk to you. What was I thinking?"

Arthur didn't say anything. William turned around and looked into Arthur's eyes.

"Goodbye, Arthur."

He turned and walked away back into the banquette hall. Arthur felt the tension which had built up in his shoulders release a fraction. He let out a slow breath.

"Oh, Merlin…"

Somehow he felt like he'd just lost a war.

* * *

In 1974 Arthur and Molly had been married for six years, Percy was still just a thought in their heads, and Bill was four years old.

"Arthur, don't we have any more bread?"

"Dear, why are you asking me?" Arthur looked up at her as he twirled a muggle pencil in his hand.

The rain outside was pounding down on the windows. It sounded like the gnomes in the yard were revolting against the house.

"Because I asked you to buy more yesterday."

The pencil dropped out of Arthur's hand and he hissed.

"Shite…"

Molly heaved a sigh as she picked up two year old Charlie who was at her feet with his arms raised up at her.

"Well, all right. I'll go pick up more."

"You don't-"

"No, Arthur, I'll get it. I'll take Charlie with me, just look after Bill," She said fixing him with one of her 'you try to argue against my superior idea and you'll be sleeping outside' stares.

Grabbing her travel cloak and casting a water repelling charm on herself and Charlie she stepped over to the fireplace. Arthur stood up and handed her an umbrella.

"Uhmella!" Charlie cried grabbing for the red handle.

Molly smiled at Arthur as she took it.

"Just in case," Arthur said.

Putting it under her arm Molly stepped into the fire and yelled, "Merlin Market." Then fire engulfed her and Charlie. Turning away from the fire Arthur walked up the stairs to look for Bill.

Since he was born Bill had been a naturally inquisitive child. As soon as he could walk Bill had poked into every area of the house. The twins must have gotten that trait from him. In fact it was Bill who awakened the ghoul in the attic which had been sleeping for who knows how long before that. Years later when Bill no longer lived at the Burrow Arthur found that the ghoul was always more active when Bill was home.

Bill would occasionally come with Arthur when he tinkered with his muggle things in the shed. Bill hadn't been a big fan of Arthur's battery collection, at least at three. At four he had given Arthur a muggle game called Battleship for his birthday. Arthur put a charm on it so the water on each side was real and your ship caught fire and really sank when your opponent finished it off. Bill had been particularly fond of the explosion of the cruiser.

"Da, can we explode it again?" He said one time.

"Bill, I still have three ships you need to find."

"But the fire went out!"

"What?"

Bill pointed at his water where Arthur could not see.

"The water puts out the burning ship!"

Blinking Arthur pursed his lips. "Well... it can't burn forever, can it?"

"Bugger."

Today Bill seemed to be off hiding somewhere. No doubt he'd discovered some new cupboard. Still the way things were going out in the world Arthur thought it would probably be better to know where his son was.

"Bill!" Arthur called.

Bill wasn't in his room or in Arthur and Molly's room. Sometimes Bill got into fights with gnomes or hid in the broom shed to read books he wasn't supposed to. So, in the end the possibilities of Bill's location could go on for awhile.

"Where could he have gotten to?"

Coming back down the stairs and into the kitchen, Arthur was about to check the den when he saw a figure out the window in the rain. Stopping by the window, Arthur saw that it was Bill. Garbed in a rain robe and a pair of goulashes, Bill was riding on his toy broom a few feet above the grass then jumping off it into puddles. A smile was spread across his face. Though his clothes were dry from the charm in the fabric his hair was plastered wet against his head. Most likely rain was also dibbled down the back of his neck.

Smiling, Arthur walked to the back door and opened the top half outward.

"Bill!"

Bill looked up halfway though a jump and landed on his bum in the mud. They both burst out laughing.

"Come inside!" Arthur shouted over the rain.

"Why?" Bill asked, taking hold of his broom after getting up from the mud.

"Because you are soaking wet, you little nutter."

"So?" Bill got back on his broom and grinned at his father.

Arthur opened his mouth then laughed. Bill did have a good point. Opening the other half of the door Arthur ran out into the rain and pulled Bill up off the broom.

"Dad!" He squealed.

"I think my shoulders are a bit higher up than your broom!" Arthur said.

"Do I get to jump off?" Bill asked as he took Arthur's glasses off his face.

"No."

"Awww!" Bill whined, Arthur's glasses now on his face, "no fair."

Arthur twirled them both around, rain drops soaking through Arthur's robe. Bill certainly did have a knack for finding fun in all things, even wet ones.

* * *

When Percy was born Arthur had been a father for six years. With three children now he felt like he was his father.

"You're still in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office, Arthur."

Arthur and George were sitting in his backyard that September.

"Yes."

Molly was sitting with little Percy in her lap out in the grass while Bill and Charlie chased the garden gnomes around.

"Aren't you worried about the expense?"

Arthur gave George a minor glare.

"We'll be just fine, George."

"Arthur, a third baby will put tremendous pres-"

"I said, we'll be fine." Arthur snapped.

George took a swig of his pumpkin juice, still staring at Arthur.

"So, three then."

"Aye."

"Are you going to have more?"

Arthur looked side long at him. "I don't know. We'll see how it goes."

"All right."

They fell silent again. Charlie had caught a gnome and seemed to be trying to throw it, with little success. Bill was lying in the grass giggling at his brother. In Molly's lap Percy was making upset noises. Perhaps he wanted his own garden gnome.

"Kind of reminds you of us, doesn't it?"

Arthur looked at him.

"Three children, just like you, me and Patrick."

Arthur nodded in reply and looked away. Starring off into the distance Arthur could feel George looking at him. George was always trying to figure people out and Arthur was no exception. He knew what Arthur was thinking. Somehow George could always tell when Arthur was worried no matter how hard he tried not to seem so. George could tell and he wanted to know why. Usually he figured it out on his own.

"Don't try too hard, eh Arthur?" George said after a long silence.

He looked back. "Try too hard?" He feigned ignorance.

"You won't be just like our parents."

Arthur stiffened slightly and picked up his drink. Of course George knew just what Arthur was thinking and what was bothering him.

"I haven't been so far," He replied flippantly, "at least not in the bad ways."

"Charlie loves you. Arthur." George leaned forward in his chair being serious. "They all do, or will when Percy is older, and they know you love them."

Arthur nodded again, "of course."

"You've been a good father so far with two and you will be with three."

"I'll try," Arthur said.

"You always were the most… loving of the three of us."

Arthur laughed then sighed finally giving into the conversation. "I want them all to be happy and never feel like Molly and I don't love them or that we love one more than another."

Charlie was crying to Molly now as it seemed the gnome had bitten him. Bill was trying to get revenge.

"I always feel like I'm going to bugger up somehow," Arthur confessed.

"I expect most parents feel that way."

Arthur chuckled. "Plague of the parents, continual self doubt."

They both laughed then, tension leaving with the action. Once their laughter died down they looked at each other.

"You'll do your best, just as you have been," George said.

"That I will."

* * *

Arthur would be lying if he said life with Molly had always been easy and happy.

"We can't keep having children like this…" Her voice was low and Arthur thought about how she would whisper in his ear at night when she thought he was asleep. "We can't."

Arthur looked at the wall, not at Molly. She was standing to his left from where he sat at the table trying to force him to look at her. He could see her shoulders leaning slightly forward with her arms crossed out of the corner of his eye but he would not turn his head to meet her gaze.

"It's twins this time, Arthur."

His teeth tightened and he clasped his hands together under his chin.

"I know, Molly."

She stepped closer to him but did not touch him.

"I love our children, Arthur, just as you do. I like having more but…"

Arthur closed his eyes. He could feel her stand up straight beside him, the air changed.

"Arthur, you need to get a new job."

He opened his eyes and stood up, his hands flat on the table.

"Molly, I can't." He finally looked at her. "I need to be in that office. I'm one of the few there that will fight for the muggles and their safety."

"Arthur, I understand your zeal but what about your family?"

He turned away from her again, his pulse quickening.

"This will make five, five children, Arthur. It's hard as it is with three but we do it. When we have five we'll have to buy everything second hand, add rooms to the house, and that magic costs money too, and food… I… Arthur, this is five but what about more? Can we even afford five?"

"I've always liked the idea of a big family," Arthur muttered.

"But Arthur," Molly was insistent and the table was between them, "the money. If you won't find a new job you need a promotion. Ask for a raise."

"What?" Arthur whirled around, his voice raised.

"Ask for a raise! You deserve it, don't you?"

Molly was the only person who made Arthur feel helpless. She had a way when she wanted to of making him incapable of speech and rational arguments. How could she disarm him like this?

"Yes, but you don't just ask for a raise…"

"Yes, you can!" Molly said, slapping her hands on the table.

"Molly, I can't…"

"Yes, you can, Arthur! Yes, you can!"

"You don't work there. How do you know?" Arthur snapped.

Sharply, she took his hand, as if to rattle him onto her side by it. "You have to stand up for yourself!"

"I do, Molly!" He shouted, pulling his hand away and stepping back from her. "Why do you think I haven't advanced?"

"You like your position."

"Yes, I do." He began to pace, fixing his glasses every 20 seconds.

"Then try to-"

"To what? Play ball? Succumb to their narrow animalistic view of muggles? Let them demean what I do and change the laws I helped cement?"

"They're not all against you. You sound paranoid." Molly threw her arms wide as she spoke, her frustration rising.

"Maybe, but there are certainly more of them against me than with me! Do you want me to bow my head to them?"

"You know I wouldn't ask you to go against your principles!" Molly pounded her fist on the table.

"Then don't!"

"I am not!" Molly yelled louder than all their shouting before.

It was then for a second that Arthur wondered how far their shouting could be heard.

"Then what do you want? What else can I do?" He suddenly pulled off his glasses and threw them down on the table. He heard glass break.

"Think of your family!" Molly said.

Then it was silent. Arthur heard the soft patter of feet running back up the stairs. He did not look at them just back at the wall. How long his sons had been listening Arthur did not know but then again how could they have not heard the shouting? Molly was sniffling and a pang of guilt erupted in Arthur. He walked to the table and picked up his glasses. One lens was shattered.

"I'm going to bed," Molly said and she walked to the stairs.

Arthur looked up at her back. "I'm sorry."

She paused with her hand on the banister then continued up the stairs. Arthur sat on the edge of the table cradling his glasses in his right hand.

"Shite…" he muttered.

* * *

The year the twins were born was the year that George was killed.

George worked at the Ministry as an unspeakable and never told them what he did. He was quite proud of his work and spent so much time at the ministry they often wondered why he bothered to leave it. Arthur saw him infrequently when he was at work. Their two departments were no where near each other and the unspeakables rarely went above their level anyway. When Arthur did see George they didn't speak, only nodded.

He had a small house outside of London to be close to the ministry and Arthur was the first one to see the dark mark floating over it at 6:12 on January 14th. At 6:13 a feeling fell upon Arthur which he would never feel again, even when his parents suffered a similar fate. He felt as though his entire body would crumble and should bleed because he was alive.

"Oh no…" he said, barely able to speak audibly.

He'd come for dinner. It was supposed to be a calm meal between brothers, no work involved, just dinner together with no war. Now Arthur stood in front of his brother's house alone, with a green skull staring down at him. He was terrified.

He'd been standing still, unable to move, staring at the house for five minutes. Nothing changed. Then a switch clicked, Arthur's legs turned on, and he ran to the house, wand in hand. Hope flared inside of him.

'Maybe he's alright. Maybe he fought them off. Maybe… maybe…'

But his heart did not believe it. The air was too still and silent but for the sound of his own running feet. Arthur reached the front door and finding it already cracked, slowly opened it with his palm, wand held in front of him.

"George?" he called.

There was no answer and Arthur felt his pulse quicken even more. Were the Death Eaters still there? It had to be too quiet.

"George?" Arthur called, louder this time.

Moving into the hall he saw the splinters of the table that stood by the door which always had held George's ancient book of Merlin. Arthur could only discern a leg and some tattered pages. George had loved that book. When he'd first received it for this 22nd birthday he'd read it straight through in four days, citing many passages to Arthur in his excitement.

"Arthur! Did you know that Merlin discovered the four different species of goblin and learned all four distinct dialects they spoke? And all in one year!"

Arthur felt himself choking at George's careworn book becoming shreds on the floor, as if it were confetti. Raising his eyes, Arthur saw a hole blasted in the wall, the railing of the stairs broken at the end and glass shards of George's sneakoscope on the bottom step. Walking forward, Arthur headed to the back of the house, eyes searching left and right. Books were strewn on the floor in the parlor to Arthur's right, to the left a chair was over turned and missing a leg in the dinning room.

'Had they been looking for something?'

Arthur could see drawers on the floor and books torn. George had such a passion for books, even a broken spine was a travesty. Arthur could feel tears building up.

"George, where are you?"

Did he really expect an answer now?

Turning into the parlor Arthur looked around, carefully pushing books and ripped cushions aside with his feet. He couldn't add to the destruction of his brother's house. The book shelves were practically empty and the cabinets had all been flung open. They had been looking for something. There was a spatter of blood on one chair. Arthur's chest tightened.

"Arthur! Arthur!" George's voice echoed in his head.

"George, this is stupid." Arthur threw down his book. "Charms are ridiculous. I may as well do it with my hands." He picked up the quill and held it above his head. "Look, it's floating."

George snorted and carefully picked up the book, placing it back in front of Arthur. The two other girls present in the Ravenclaw common room had stared in abject horror at Arthur's mistreatment of the book.

"Calm down, Arthur," George said, "it's your first year, of course it's going to be difficult."

"I know but-"

George cut him off, "But you're a Weasley, a wizard just like me. It's in your blood!"

"George, I'm not as good as you! You're a Ravenclaw; you're supposed to be smart."

George had laughed at him with his characteristic brushing back of his hair.

"You will be as good as you are supposed to be, little brother. I know you'll be able to do it. You don't need to compare yourself to me." He paused. "So, don't abuse the book."

For some reason Arthur always remembered George saying what he'd forever wanted to hear after that, of the two of them not having to compare to each other.

Yet now Arthur could only think of the lack of his brother's voice responding to his calls. He made the only sounds as he walked, crunching on glass and wood splinters. Turning the corner Arthur entered the library, more books than the parlor littering the floor as if they were carpet. The book shelves that normally lined the walls and were as high as the ceiling were knocked over or broken. In the corner Arthur suddenly saw a shoe attached to a leg.

"George…" he whispered, his wand arm lowering a little.

'No, no, no!' he thought, his legs shaking while he stepped closer to the form crumpled in the corner, partially obscured by a fallen book shelf.

"George?" he asked, though knowing he would get no answer.

'It can't be. No, he can't be… he's too young, too committed, too full of life! He can't be…'

Arthur stumbled over some books and fell down to one knee, his left hand catching him before he fell further down and he saw George's face. His body lay on its side, legs kicked out around the edge of the bookcase. His cheek was pressed down on the wooden floor, arms slack against his chest.

"Oh, George!"

Arthur dropped his wand and his right leg gave out sliding books across the floor. George looked pale and hard, like he was just another piece of furniture, furniture with eyes and a face. His eyes were wide open with an anguished look on his features. Hair had fallen in his face and Arthur could see his wand still cradled loosely in his hand. He almost didn't look real as if he were a wax figure some one had dropped into a sea of books and left floating around. How ironic that George was killed among the things he loved most.

Finding his wits again, Arthur crawled forwards, shoving the bookcase away from his brother, kneeling in front of him. Arthur felt himself shaking as he gently brushed back the strands of George's hair with his Fingers.

"George…" a tear trickled down his face. "What did they want with you?"

The signs of the killing curse were clear though Arthur had never seen it before in person. Why had the Death Eaters deemed George worthy for such a fate? Why was his older brother lying dead before him now? His brother was dead and silent.

Arthur's body slumped and his head hit the floor, eyes full of tears. Shaking and hyperventilating Arthur sobbed beside his brother's body. And still the house was silent but for him. Arthur's ears felt muffled but for his own sorrow, his brother, his family, lying still beside him with his eyes open. Every kind word, helpful touch, everything George had ever done for him flashed through Arthur's head. All the times George had saved Arthur in some way echoed in his head, yelling 'why were you not here now?' Why could Arthur, for once, not save his brother instead? Why was he such a failure?

Somewhere beyond the muffle over his ears and his sobs, Arthur heard the pops of apparitions. Footsteps filled the house along with the voices of wizards and witches. Arthur only felt himself cry harder. Why hadn't he been there? Hands touched his back, voices spoke to him but he couldn't understand. Someone lifted him up and pulled him back.

"George, George he's… he's my brother, George…" Arthur cried.

"It's alright Arthur, come away," someone said to him.

"George…"

Other wizards gathered around George's body, blocking him from view. A young witch handed Arthur his wand which he limply took from her. They carried Arthur away through the fallen books, supporting him by his arms. He could not protest. He hadn't been there to save George or to stop the Death Eaters searching. Though noise now filled the house, George still was silent.

Arthur never knew why the Death Eaters had murdered George. He had been 31 years old.

Three weeks later Fredericka James was killed too and 1 month, 28 days later the twins were named.

* * *

They never had four kids. In Arthur's house three went straight on to five. She hadn't told him until later but Molly had been expecting twins all along because of her brothers. Then there they were, two wriggling babies at once. It had always been one baby, one toddler. Now it was two babies, one toddler, a six year old, and an eight year old. Arthur couldn't believe Bill was eight and now these two were brand new.

Fred and George were the busiest babies Arthur had ever seen. The last three had been babies just like any other but Fred and George were a type unto themselves. They always woke up in the night at the same time, though George was louder and Fred fell back asleep first. They disliked the same baby foods but while George would spit it up, Fred would fling it across the room. As soon as they could crawl they were into everything. The two of them found cupboards and table corners and strings under large stacks of books and potions ingredients he didn't even know they owned. The terrible twos did not exist for them; it was just the terrible twins.

If you separated Fred and George you'd have to live with the guilt all day. Neither boy cried when separated from the other, it was much worse. They just stopped moving. They sat where they were and looked off in the direction the other twin was taken. Their faces appeared so confused, like the world turned over and left them alone and upright. Which ever baby was left alone would stare and stare at the last spot where they had seen their twin. Confusion and sadness would mix but they did not scream or cry. Each one just sat and sadly waited for the other to return.

The twins and little Percy seemed to be enemies from the start. It didn't appear that Percy hated the twins, just disliked their presence. It was understandable, he was no longer the attention getting baby. He seemed to understand that he could not fight against two for attention. What he really thought in his two, and then three year old brain, Arthur did not know. Percy was always quiet when the twins were first born.

Once the twins could crawl and later walk they liked to pester Percy. Bill was incapable of pestering and Charlie enjoyed playing with them. It was Percy who would yell and cry and make the most ridiculous faces. Arthur couldn't help but laugh behind his hand with them. Percy just got so riled up, even at three years old.

It was really amazing how different one's own children could be. Arthur could see little parts of himself and little parts of Molly in his children but then where did all the rest come from? Maybe that was biological magic. Magic itself manifested in each of his children a different way. Bill had hovered six inches above the floor after he slipped out of Molly's hands. Sparks emitting from his muggle toy dinosaur was Charlie's first sigh of magic. Percy made one of Molly's feather pillows burst by looking at it. The twins had a much more surprising display of first magic than their older bothers. When they were three years old one day they begged and bugged Arthur to let them try flying with Bill and Charlie. Somehow Arthur had stood firm and said no. When they broke into loud unison tears the kitchen erupted into flames.

They never had four kids. They had started with one baby, then two babies, three kids, five, and later six, ending on seven. But they never had four, two in the middle and one on each end. After only two, Bill and Charlie, there was always one middle child or three, never two. Apparently Arthur and Molly didn't do the even numbers.


	2. Death

It had been one year, five months, and two days since George had been killed when Arthur heard the bell that denoted the arrival of a ministry message ring throughout his house. Molly and he both jerked their heads up from their respective books in the den and ran to the kitchen. They nearly knocked each other over and skidded to a halt in front of the hearth.

"It's nearly midnight!" Molly exclaimed. "What could it be?"

A count down from five illuminated in ten centimeter high blue digits was in the fire as they waiting sharing a worried expression. One disappeared and a low level ministry employee's head appeared looking placid.

"Arthur Weasley?"

Molly glanced over at him.

"Yes?" he said his pulse increasing.

"Report: dark mark sighted over the residence of Charles and Anne Weasley at 11:00 pm, Aurors dispatched. Next of kin allowed access to site."

"What!" Arthur yelled, feeling a strong urge to punch the face in the flames.

Molly clenched his shoulder, trying to calm him.

"The Auror's are at the site, sir. We are informing you of the event and granting you access."

"'Granting me access!'" he screamed.

"Arthur, the children!" Molly hissed holding his arm down.

He hadn't even realized that he'd almost grabbed the head of the ministry man in his fire.

'How do they say such a thing?' he thought. 'How could they act so heartless when his parents could be dead?'

"Thank you, sir," Molly said and she dragged Arthur away.

He couldn't help it. He wanted to kill someone, wanted to bash his fists into anything alive. He just wanted to smash something, destroy anything in his sight.

"How, how could he - how!" Arthur babbled, his body heaving in fury.

Molly was still holding on to him.

"I don't -"

Molly cut him off, "Arthur!"

He looked down at her, breathing heavily.

"Your parents," She said simply.

His body stilled and he couldn't breathe. His parents!

"I've… I've got to go, Molly."

"I know," She said, releasing her grip on Arthur's arm.

He kissed her on the head, looked into her worried eyes, and walked out the kitchen door. As soon as his feet were on the grass he apparated to his parent's house. He appeared with a pop by the owl perch, the dark mark looming above him. There were three wizards standing on the lawn and he could hear noise from inside. Arthur ran to the house, kicking up dirt as he went.

"Hey! Who are you?" One of the wizards shouted.

They pulled out their wands, pointing them at Arthur, and the one who spoke approached him. Arthur tried to run past, ignoring them.

"Hey!" he shouted again, and he grabbed Arthur's arm. "I asked who you are!"

Arthur punched him. Almost immediately hands were on his and a wand was pointed directly in his face.

"Let me go!" He shouted, struggling against the arms that held him.

One man took his wand out of his pocket.

"Stand down!" the wand holder shouted right back. "Don't make me bind you!"

"I said let me go!"

"You're the one who came in here starting a fight!"

"Arthur!"

They all looked at the house where Patrick stood in the doorway.

"Patrick!" Arthur exclaimed.

"Let him go, you idiots!" Patrick said as he ran down the lawn. "He's my brother, their son! Let him go!"

The hands released him and Arthur ran up to Patrick. There were tear stains down his cheeks and his eyes were red, not to mention his hair was sticking out at a number of odd angles as if he'd been grasping it over and over in his fist. As Arthur saw his brother's pain stricken face his anger evaporated into concern. He suddenly realized there was someone to be more worried and angry over than himself. In fact he could not be angry at all now.

"So?" Arthur said, trying to remain calm.

Patrick nodded, looked away, and turned, leading Arthur to the door. Chest tight, Arthur took Patrick's hand firmly in his own and walked to the house where he had spent his childhood. Inside nothing was torn apart, hardly a thing out of place.

"Do they know what happened?" Arthur asked.

"It was probably because of mother's article in the Daily Prophet about Lucius Malfoy and his possible Death Eater connections. I can't believe they even let her print that in the first place."

"She always did have a lot to say," Arthur replied, arms crossed.

In the parlor their bodies lay side by side. They'd obviously been moved and placed more nobly than they had been before. One chair was broken by the wall but apart from that the place looked rather serene. It just felt… odd to Arthur to see his parent's bodies lying as if for just a quick rest on the parlor floor. He strangely didn't feel sad. He only felt blankness as if he couldn't decide how he felt about their deaths and seeing them now; so his mind put a blank sheet of paper there, waiting to be written on.

Looking sidelong at Patrick, Arthur could see his eyes tearing up again. He always had been the baby and the apple of their mother's eye. No doubt he would be more affected by their deaths than anyone. Arthur felt guilt that he had not been there when Patrick had first arrived so he could have helped Patrick's shock and grief at the first sight of their dead parents.

"Father was found right in the hall. Looks like they caught him by… by surprise…." Patrick's voice quivered, "no fight at all."

"It's all right, Patrick."

"And mum…." He choked.

"It's all right," Arthur put a hand on his shoulder, "you don't have to tell me now."

"I can't believe it, Arthur. George has been barely gone a year and now… this. It's just you and me now. How can they all be gone?"

He turned to look at Arthur with eyes of someone much younger than 27. Could it really be that Arthur was now the oldest Weasley left?

"We just have to go on, Patrick."

"But, how -"

"Patrick, they wouldn't want us to stop living for sorrow. We have to remember them and fight to keep living happily. They would want the best for their children."

Arthur didn't know where the little speech came from but it made Patrick smile a bit so it must have done the job. A pair of witches walked past them, levitating the bodies of their parents under black sheets out the door. Patrick sighed.

"How can these times be so terrible that it ends up touching everyone even when they think they are immune?"

Arthur gave no answer, only watched the black sheets leave. Neither of them spoke for a long time standing alone in the hall.

"Well…" said Patrick, "I guess we should…do some… we should…"

"Nothing now, Patrick. We can worry about everything else tomorrow."

Patrick nodded, trying to casually wipe at the corners of his eyes. He sighed heavily and looked away from Arthur. His shoulders shook a little and Arthur could tell he still wanted to cry but was trying to hold it back.

"Let's go," Arthur said, grasping the top of Patrick's arm.

Patrick turned and they walked out the front door. Aurors still covered the lawn, occasionally pointing their wand at things and muttering spells.

"We'll finish up with the inspection then report to you if we should find anything you need to be aware of Mr. Weasley."

Arthur nodded to the Auror and walked down to the road. Patrick looked back to the house.

"What do they do with the bo…"

"The ministry holds them until the family makes provisions for them," Arthur replied.

"Uh huh…"

"Patrick, do you want to come to The Burrow tonight?"

"I…." Patrick faltered.

"It's all right, we'll make room. Come. You shouldn't be alone."

He nodded, "ok, Arthur. I'll come."

"Let's go then."

With a pop the both apparated and left the dark mark there in the sky.

A small funeral was held one week later. Patrick gave a short speech about childhood and memories. He and Molly cried the entire service. Arthur did not.

* * *

The first war caused changes, not changes as in the level of fear or death but in people. War changes all people bringing out terrible things you didn't know someone could do but also amazing things which could make your love for one other person grow. For the years which the war dragged on fear was a common place thing but certain changes came as surprises. The change in the policies of the Ministry of Magic came as a surprise to Arthur, though he would later reflect that they really shouldn't have.

Tank changed too and became more amazing than Arthur could have anticipated.

"You named him after me?"

Arthur smiled. "Well, I'd gotten into a naming pattern and…"

"So, this little guy is Ronald?"

Tank and Arthur looked in at the sleeping baby nestled in his crib.

"I think Ron is a good sized name for him right now at least."

"So, kid number six is me?"

"Well… I wouldn't say that. He is a good deal smaller."

Tank nodded with a laugh and stood up straight. "You going to raise him to be just like me then?"

Arthur snorted then motioned Tank to follow him out of the room. They lightly stepped down the stairs, taking care to be especially quiet in front of Molly's room. Little Ron had only been born two weeks ago so she still needed her rest. In the kitchen Arthur got Tank a cup of coffee, only partially warmed up since his heating spells weren't always up to par.

"Can you stay for awhile?" Arthur asked.

"Not too long. I'm speaking before the Wizengamot this afternoon."

Arthur nodded in reply. A few years after the war had started Tank had begun speaking out against some of the new policies and actions of the Ministry. The Ministry had legalized confession through torture and often imprisoned people without trial. It even allowed aurors to use unforgiveables against suspected Death Eaters and their conspirators when necessary. Tank had been outraged at the turns the government was taking. He said if we used such brutal and unjust methods we were no better than the Death Eaters. Tank began holding sessions for others who felt as he did to make their opinions known.

By now Tank was well known in the wizarding world. He was just called McClaggen. He spoke out at hearings and trials advocating fair treatment of suspects and criminals. Barty Crouch was his chief adversary, not to mention one person whom Tank was most interested in reforming.

"What are you presenting today?" Arthur asked.

"I'm trying to appeal the case of a couple who has been imprisoned on charges of conspiring with the Death Eaters and passing information. They weren't given a trial and some of my friends who work in their office have evidence that contradicts the charges. The Wizengamot has been refusing to hear it."

He sighed and put down his coffee. Arthur followed Tank with his eyes as he paced.

"So far they haven't been receptive but I'm hoping Amelia Bones, she's new, may be able to help turn it our way."

"I hope so," Arthur said.

Grinning, Tank stopped pacing. "There's always a chance."

Last month Arthur had helped Tank organize a rally calling for the clean up of Ministry policies. Over the weekend Arthur had heard Tank use that phrase over and over to motivate the protesters, "There's always a chance." He did not believe in giving up. As he said, the Ministry could win the war without lowering themselves and prolonging pain. They were supposed to be fighting against prejudice, torture, and death not magnifying it.

"Well," Tank said, "I best be off. You'll still be able to come to that dinner tonight, right?"

Arthur nodded; He was going at Tank's 'date' to the Ministry dinner and gala to honor five aurors killed in action. He wasn't sure how Tank had gotten on the guest list but they were going.

"You be careful, Ok…" he paused, "Ron."

Turning his head Tank smiled at Arthur. "You tell little Ron his uncle Tank will be back."

Then he apparated.

At the party that evening Arthur wore his blue dress ropes, the nicest he had now which was only mediocre compared to everyone else. Tank had dressed in black, sleek dress robes and high boots, and his demeanor rivaled that of haughty Lucius Malfoy. In the face of Ministry officials he had spoke against, reported illicit actions on, argued with through trials and hearings, Tank was a tower of confidence and charisma. Only Arthur could see the slight nerves present in Tank's overly bright smile.

Tank held a crowd around him almost constantly repeating over and over in various forms how injustice against the innocent and accused must always be upheld no matter how dire the times and that the Ministry and its supporters had to be examples of morality as well as justice. Arthur could not believe how many different ways Tank could say the same thing and yet convert new people each way.

The focus of the party was not the dead aurors but McClaggen. If the tension in the room was any indication, many people were not happy about this.

Of course no one can talk forever, so eventually Tank fulfilled his crowd of learners and sought Arthur out standing by the wall. Leaning one shoulder on the wall beside Arthur, Tank sighed.

"Did I sound like complete crap?" He looked apprehensive.

"No."

"Really?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Only I can see through your crap."

Tank laughed in response. "So, having any fun at all?"

Arthur shrugged, looking out of the corner of his eye at Tank. "The food is good, spiced pumpkin cake with that cream stuff on top."

A snort was Tank's only reply.

"I doubt you're eaten at all yet."

"Well," Tank shifted so his back was to the wall, "it's hard to eat and preach the gospel at the same time."

Both laughed and looked at each other.

"Well, come on!" Arthur said, "let's get you at least some crackers or something."

Pushing off from the wall the two former house mates weaved their way through the crowds of fancy robes and shinny pointed hats. On their way Arthur spotted a familiar face in the crowd. He stopped Tank with a hand on his chest and waved once.

"Terrence!"

He turned his head and grinned. "Arthur Weasley and McClaggen!"

They walked up to Terrence Longbottom and all three exchanged hellos and 'been a long time's. As soon at they had finished reintroductions Alexander walked up, two drinks in his hands, and they did it all again.

"What are you guys doing here?" Arthur asked after they got through the customary pleasantries.

"Terrence is an auror," Alexander said, "head of unit V now."

"Head of a unit?" Arthur said, impressed.

"Its very rewarding and I'm glad to do it!" Terrence smiled as he spoke, beaming with pride.

"Fighting the good fight, eh?" Tank said with an edge of sarcasm to his voice.

"Of course we know what you do," Terrence said to Tank, his smile lessening.

"I'm going to get you two drinks," Alexander said, looking like he wanted to escape the clearly up coming debate.

Arthur wished he could flee too. He loved Tank as much as he had loved George but he had heard this debate before. At the end of it there was no winner no matter what Tank might think.

"I do what needs to be done," Tank said.

"Of course," Terrence replied, his expression falling.

"I stand up for those who can't."

"You oppose the Ministry and take up their time when they could be working against the real problem. You're a rabble rouser and a disturbance!"

"You'd rather us be animals!" Tank spat just as Alexander got back with the drinks.

"All right!" Arthur said, grabbing the glass Alexander offered him spilling half its contents. "Opinions are opinions and we clearly know both sides now. You both need to calm down."

Tank took the glass from Alexander and gulped down almost the entire drink at once. They were silent, Tank and Terrence still staring at each other. Alexander coughed nervously and looked up at the ceiling. Sighing, Arthur looked at Terrence.

"So, did you know the aurors this event is for?" He asked.

"Uh… yes." Terrence drew his attention away from his staring match with Tank rather reluctantly. "One was under me, actually."

"Yeah, I knew Ben too. He was a good guy, two year veteran I think," Alexander added.

"Bagged himself a lot of bad guys?" Tank suddenly broke in.

Terrence opened his mouth, eyebrows almost crushing his eyes in an angry scowl. Tank stepped forward. Both Alexander and Arthur's hands lashed out and grabbed their partner's shoulders.

"I think we best be going!" Arthur said, "more punch to sample and all."

Tank gulped down the last of his drink, shoved the glass into Terrence's hand and stalked off. Arthur took a step to follow then stopped.

"You know," Arthur said, looking directly at his two old friends, "he doesn't mean any offense to either of you. He's fighting just like the two of you, only difference is he doesn't have it so easy."

Then Arthur turned away and followed Tank.

They left soon after the memorial speech and posthumous awarding of medals. Unfortunately, they were not drunk as they walked away from the Ministry. 'A walk in the air' Tank had said. It was dark enough that the street lamps were lit but it wasn't all that late.

"Shouldn't we head home?" Arthur said.

"In a second," Tank said. "Sometimes I wish I was a muggle. No war to speak of and no magic and no friend against friend shit."

"Oh yes, that's only in the wizarding world," Arthur said sarcastically.

Laughing in response Tank turned down a side street. "True, quite true. Must be that whole being human thing."

"You're fighting for what you think is right, Tank, nothing wrong in that. Plus you don't talk to Terrence and Alexander that much anyhow, especially Terrence."

"Good point, very good. McClaggen must do his work." Tank put his thumbs in the fold of his robe and looked importantly at Arthur.

"Confident, are we?" Arthur asked.

Tank stopped walking and put his hand against the wall. Arthur stood still a step behind him.

"No," Tank replied.

"Found you," a male voice said out of the darkness.

Both looked up to see a figure ahead of them a few meters at the end of the street back lit by a street lamp. Tank dropped his arm and Arthur stepped up beside him.

"Found us?" Arthur queried.

A thin blue line shot out of the figure's pointed wand and hit Tank in the chest. As soon as it made contact it disappeared and Tank fell onto his back. Arthur was on his knees beside Tank with his wand pointed the next second.

"What did you- oh shit! Ahhh- god- I- ahh!" Tank curled around himself and groaned, biting at his lip.

"What did you do to him?" Arthur shouted.

The man stepped closer to them, his wand trained on Arthur.

"I activated the poison lying dormant in his system. It only needed a few hours."

Tank screamed, clutching at Arthur's free hand, his body twitching. Panic started to fill Arthur's head. Then, as if peeling out of the darkness, he could see the man's face.

"Oh my… no!"

"I'm afraid so, Arthur." Alexander kept his wand on Arthur. "I work for the Ministry now Arthur and this had to be done. I don't want to kill you too."

Shock made Arthur shake involuntarily at seeing the man who had lived with Tank and him for seven years at school, the man who had seemed so squeamish inside the Ministry at a simple debate, pointing a wand at him now.

"Oh… help," Tank groaned.

His eyes turned pleadingly to Arthur. Tank's whole body was shaking and his hand was holding on to Arthur's so tightly that both their skin looked white. Arthur gently released his hand from Tank's and stood up. Forgetting his shock, he advanced on Alexander with his wand held out like a sword that he could impale into Alexander's gut.

"You stop it! Stop it now!" He screamed.

"It can't be stopped."

"Yes it can!" There were tears stinging him. "Stop it!"

"What do you know of magical poisons, Arthur? You deal with muggles!"

Tank's breathing was sounding shallow and his voice choked. Arthur stood directly in front of Tank, the memory of a drink handed to the other by Alexander causing him to grit his teeth.

"You have to stop it!" Desperation was in his voice but he didn't care. "He was your friend too! Stop it!"

Arthur couldn't even force himself to speak calmly and try and talk Alexander into submission. He was panicking. He didn't know how long the poison would take and Tank could not die!

"He was an enemy of the Ministry, Arthur. He disrupted our work and only complicated matters."

"Alexander!"

"I do what has to be done," Alexander echoed Tank's earlier proclamation.

"Arthur…" Tank gasped.

"Tank, stay with me," Arthur said, still looking at Alexander.

He did not respond.

"Tank?"

Still keeping his eyes on Alexander's wand, Arthur knelt and felt for Tank's hand. When he found it Tank did not grip back. Completely turning away from his aggressor Arthur grasped Tank's hand.

"Tank!"

His eyes were closed and his body still. Arthur felt something snap inside of him.

"Tank! Talk to me!" Tears flowed down his face. "No, no, no! Tank- Ron! Ronnie, no, don't do this to me. You can't die. Open your eyes!" Arthur was shaking Tank's still body and screaming. "Open your eyes, damn it! You git! Don't do this! Ron! Open your eyes! Please! Please! Ronnie!"

Tank didn't open his eyes and the panic in Arthur exploded into despair.

"No!" He wailed, laying his head on Tank's chest. "No! No!"

Then a face swam before him, Alexander. Standing, Arthur turned around and ran to the end of the little street, hot rage blinding away everything else. Looking left he saw retreating robes.

"Alexander!" Arthur kept running, rage in every part of his body, coursing through his wand bringing out sparks.

"Arthur, don't provoke me!" He shouted as he turned around.

"You try to apparate and I'll kill you before you're half way through turning!"

They were standing still now on the sidewalk in front of each other.

"You'd become a murderer for him?"

"You already are one!" His voice was softer but still full of rage.

"I did what I had to, Arthur."

Sparks were still coming from Arthur's wand and his hand shook.

"You killed Tank, Tank! You killed him! He did nothing to you!"

"I'm a hit wizard, Arthur; I work for the magical law enforcement squad. I'm the Ministy's assassin, Arthur. Did you really think they didn't have any? I don't kill for pleasure or because I had something against him personally. I kill to protect, to serve the Ministry of Magic."

"It can't work like that! We have laws!"

"When has any government followed their own laws to the letter?"

"I'll expose you!" Arthur shouted.

"How? The poison had a magical trigger and disappears after 20 minutes. You have no proof. McClaggen had many enemies." He pointed at the street as he shouted the end.

"Then I will kill you!"

"You won't," He stepped closer.

"I will! Avada-"

Alexander moved before Arthur could finish and one swift hit to his knees had Arthur on the ground. Another knocked out his breath and blurred his vision.

"Good bye, Arthur."

Then Arthur was alone on the street at the sound of the assassin's apparation. Getting to his feet Arthur swayed and blinked furiously, staring at the space where Alexander had been. Turning around he walked back to the side street. Tank still lay where Arthur had left him.

Walking back to Tank's body seemed to take forever; a pressure barrier kept hard at Arthur's chest, constricting his heart and breathing. Finally he sat down beside his best friend. His face was still pinched a bit with pain, his body curled on its side though his legs had gone lax. Tank didn't move when Arthur touched him. He brushed the hair out of Tank's face and brushed the dirt off of Tank's robe while tears streamed out of his eyes.

Tank was dead and Arthur could not stop the tears.

* * *

A knock came at the Weasley door at 1:27 PM three months after Tank had died. It was Terrence Longbottom. Arthur and Terrence stood in the doorway just looking at each other. The two hadn't seen each other since Tank's funeral.

"Well?" Terrence asked.

"Come in then," Arthur said, stepping out of the doorway.

The two walked into the house and sat down in the den.

"I came to see how you were doing," Terrence said.

"I'm fine," Arthur replied, looking at the wall.

"You know when people say fine they usually mean not fine."

Arthur glared at him, "thank you, Terrence."

"It's only been three months, Arthur," Terrence said, moving forward in his chair. "No one expects you to be 'fine' yet."

Arthur stood up suddenly, "Did you really not know?"

Terrence threw up his hands and leaned back in his chair, "Arthur!"

"Really, Terrence. Alexander was your best friend!"

Arthur was pacing around the room. From his seat Terrence watched Arthur with his eyes. Arthur knew he shouldn't be doing this but he couldn't help it. He shouldn't be attacking Terrence. Three months and still all he could think about was Tank. He couldn't stop himself.

"Arthur, I know what you've said about Alexa-"

"I've told you, I'm not lying, Terrence! Why would I try to pin the blame on someone who'd been my friend unless it was true?"

Terrence sighed. "Arthur…"

"You know I tried to do something about it. I tried that whole first month, I tried!"

"Arthur…"

"I couldn't just let him be dead. I couldn't just let it be nothing. I couldn't let Tank be killed right in front of me and not try to get the man who did it!"

"But you can't prove it, Arthur!" Terrence shouted and stood up. He stood in front of Arthur, forcing the other to look at him. "I know what you said but you have no proof. Alexander is a respected Ministry employee, works hard; many people think very highly of him and the work he has done for the Magical Law Enforcement division during this war! He's needed."

"Oh, yes-"

"Arthur!" Terrence cut him off and put a hand on Arthur's shoulder.

Arthur hadn't noticed that he was breathing so heavily until Terrence forced him down into a chair. All he could see was Tank falling to the ground; Tank crying out in pain. He would have nightmares of Tank gasping and asking him for help, to make the pain stop, to do something, dying every time. He could still see Alexander at the end of the alley; see the light from his wand. The images were haunting Arthur and he felt as if he would never be rid of them. He wanted to scream and cry all the time, just hurt something, do anything that would bring Tank back.

"Arthur."

He looked up at Terrence who was crouching in front of him, hands on the arms of the chair.

"We've all lost Tank, you most of all. Now I want to make sure we don't loose you too."

For some reason this made Arthur smile. Terrence did care for him despite the irrevocable divide between Arthur and Alexander now. It was probable that the struggle was different for Terrence, loosing a friend and having two no longer speaking to each other.

"I will be fine, Terrence."

Terrence gave him a look.

"Eventually, really."

He smiled and stood up. "Well, shall we have some tea then?"

Arthur sighed and did not stand up. "I can't just stop, Terrence."

He looked up at the other from where he sat. Terrence just gazed back at him then looked away.

"Arthur, I understand that you want justice for Tank but you and I both know that no matter what you say, not matter Alexander's guilt or not, you are not going to get anywhere." Arthur huffed but Terrence held up a hand. "There is still a war to fight and far more serious threats. We have to beat the Death Eaters first Arthur before personal crusades can be waged."

Clasping his hands in his lap Arthur stared at the floor. He knew Terrence was right. He had a family to protect. You know who and the Death Eaters were so close to collapsing their entire world. They had already taken Tank, if indirectly.

"This is how it is Arthur," Terrence said.

"I know…" Arthur muttered.

He heard Terrence walk over and sit on the arm of the chair. A hand came to rest on his shoulder.

"We just have to keep going for now, all right?"

Arthur nodded and stood up. "Yeah, I know. Bigger battles to fight and all that." He looked over at Terrence. "Let's go have that tea then."

There was still a war to fight and live through but Arthur would not forget and he would not forgive what had happened to Tank.


	3. Life

As a young father Arthur had always been determined to not make the same mistakes of his parents. He vowed to never hurt any of them, neglect any of them, ignore, hit, shame or other wise make any of his children feel that he did not love them. None of his children would fall prey to middle child syndrome as he had. His children would all feel special. It was not until years later, when it was already too late, that Arthur would realize he had failed.

He had failed in Percy.

It was four months after the end of the war. Little Ginny had recently been born, a girl finally in the family. They now had two babies and three-year-old twins. Those four alone were a full plate but then three older boys were already there too. Thus, it was a noisy house. Work at the Ministry was still intense despite the war being over. Life had to be rebuilt after it had been nearly destroyed. Arthur worked hard to fix the cracks the wizarding war had made in the muggle world virtually on his own. Everyone else was seeking out Death Eaters in hiding, confiscating items of Dark Arts, holding trials, healing those tortured and cursed, reuniting families, rebuilding Diagon Alley, and millions of other tasks in their world. Only a handful could be spared to care about the muggles. Arthur was one.

"Charlie!" Molly yelled up the stairs. "Charlie you get down here and clean up this mess!"

Baby Ron was crying in her arms while Fred and George were tearing around the den.

"Charlie! Don't make me come up there!"

"Molly…" Arthur murmured from where he was working at the kitchen table.

His work was spread out around him on the table. There were still muggle sites which needed reconstruction as well as cursed objects to be confiscated. Arthur had to organize reconstruction and he had to find time and, more importantly, people to confiscate any suspected booby traps left over in muggles house by the Death Eaters.

"Sorry dear," Molly said quietly to him then yelled again. "Charlie you are nearly 10 years old now you can clean up your own toys!"

Arthur rubbed his temples and groaned.

"Ok, ok, mum!" Charlie came bounding down the stairs. "I'll do it!"

"Daddy?" Five year old Percy tugged at Arthur's pant leg.

"Yes?" Arthur asked with a haggard sigh.

He glanced at Percy then opened a new file on some recent muggle deaths by some remaining Death Eaters. It seemed that some of those not yet caught by the aurors were trying to strike out as they could to cause havoc in their anger at their Lord's defeat. Muggles were easy targets.

"Daddy, can you read some "Mrs. Maggie's Wizard History for Young Witches and Wizards" with me?" Percy asked.

Arthur looked down at his son. Percy was standing beside Arthur's chair in his pajamas holding up the thick maroon book. Only his nose and large brown framed glasses could be seen over the top of the book.

"Um… not at the moment, Percy. I have to deal with these forms and reports from work. You can read it without me this time."

Arthur turned back to his pile. Percy was an exceptionally good reader on his own for his age Arthur knew. Reading the file, Arthur found that a whole muggle family had been murdered last week by a Death Eater. It was probably Avery sneaking about to let off steam. Arthur did not believe a word of his cry of 'Imperious' at the trial.

"Oh Merlin…" Arthur muttered.

It seemed the family's young daughter had survived. Arthur would make sure she received some proper care at St. Mungo's. They couldn't just leave her. Sifting through his piles Arthur looked for a 'magical injuries to muggles' form.

"Dad?"

Arthur looked down to see Percy still standing beside him book down at his side now.

"Yes, Percy?"

Under a folder on the Sussex explosion last month Arthur found the form he was looking for.

"We could just read a little… so, so you could get back… back to your work quick."

Arthur sighed and placed his quill down on the table.

"I'm sorry, Percy, not now. Go on and read it yourself or ask your mother. I have a lot of work to do. The muggles need me after all that's happened. You know that, right?"

Percy fidgeted. "Yes… but I like reading it with you."

Arthur smiled. "Next time, ok?"

He ruffled Percy's hair and turned back to his work. It was nice to see that Percy liked to read about history. He would probably do very well in History of Magic at Hogwarts. Now, this young girl, her name was Melissa, had been subject to the cruciatus curse. Her brain was severely damaged. Arthur took off his glasses and put his hand over his face. Little muggle Melissa may never leave St. Mungo's again. It was terrible how the muggles could be dragged into something they had nothing to do with and no way to fight. Opening his eyes again, Arthur picked up his quill and began filling the form out.

"Charlie!" Molly suddenly yelled. "Do not tease your brothers like that!"

"Don't worry, mum!" That was Fred.

"Yeah, mum, we can handle him!" That was George.

Amazing how feisty they already were at three. In the den Charlie, Fred and George were racing around the couch. Charlie was armed with a toy wand while Fred and George were each bravely fighting him off with large spoons from the kitchen. Looking up, Arthur saw Percy now walking up the stairs with his book. How Percy would be able to read with this racket Arthur did not know, he could barely work.

What Arthur didn't realize at the time was that the point, to Percy, was not just the reading.

* * *

The kids tore through the wrapping paper like starving dogs on an already dry bone, not that Arthur had ever really witnessed such a thing. However, he was witnessing the decimation of a good deal of wrapping paper now. Five year old Ginny was somehow wearing a piece of green sparking charmed wrapping paper as a cape. She kept climbing up onto the sofa and jumping off while flapping her arms.

"I'm going to be an owl!" she kept saying.

"Of course, dear," Molly said as she bustled around the children trying to save any wrapping paper that could be salvaged for use next year.

"Can I transfigure with this?" Fred asked as he bounced in front of Arthur waving his new toy wand around.

"What about mine?" George chimed in, shoving Fred to the side.

"Boys, calm down!" Arthur said, putting his hands on top of their heads to still them, though it hardly worked.

Arthur and Molly had tried this year to get every one of the children something brand new. In years past it had been harder and harder to do so with new children coming. Hand me downs and used gifts were fine but they all deserved something new. The twins both got toy wands and exploding snap decks. Percy got a box of new quills. He was very excited about Hogwarts next year and wanted to practice writing essays. Arthur didn't understand it but if that's what he wanted then so be it. Ron got his own toy broom and Ginny was given a muggle jewelry kit and a new dress. Bill and Charlie had been harder. They were getting older and, thus, had more expensive tastes. Luckily he'd found a nice reasonably priced book on Chinese Fireballs for Bill. He'd been expressing an interesting in dragons lately and Arthur thought it might be good for him to learn more.

"Mum, my sweater doesn't fit!" Ron whined.

Arthur chuckled as Molly went to help him pull it down over his head.

"Honestly, Ron," she cooed.

"Dad! Dad! Look!" Ginny was squeaking from the couch. "Look! I'm a green owl!" She jumped off.

"There's no such thing, Ginny," Percy said from the other end.

"Yeah, there is!" Fred said.

"Yep," added George.

"No, there isn't," Percy insisted, shifting his glasses.

"Are you sure?" Fred insisted right back.

"Uh…" Percy faltered.

"Fred!" Molly snapped.

The twins burst into laughter and Percy flushed, looking down at his quill box. Arthur suppressed a chuckle.

Bill was not home this Christmas. He had chosen to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays to be with his new muggleborn girlfriend. They had sent him some new dress robes and fizzing whizbees with his Weasley sweater. They weren't the most exciting presents but he needed them.

"Mum, I'm gonna go read in my room," Charlie said, standing up.

"Alright dear, we're having lunch at 11:30."

Arthur smiled at the chaos that was their den. The little Christmas tree they'd gotten from the woods was shaking its pine needles in time to the music. Molly had just had to give it a personality when she put on the charmed tinsel. (It was probably a girl too.) Wrapping paper that hadn't been picked up and carefully folded away by Molly was shoved up against the base of the tree.

Fred and George were trying out their exploding snap cards amid the pile of boxes. Molly had picked Ginny off the couch and was engaging her in dancing with the tree. Percy was dipping his quills in different inks, seeing how they wrote. Ron was sitting at Arthur's feet watching his broom float up and down four feet.

Perhaps, it was a more modest Christmas than some but they were happy. Everyone had Burtie Botts and chocolate frogs to satisfy their sweet teeth. They were together and these were his children, his wife, and his home. Money was tight but not important. He was happy and Christmas showed him every year how much real wealth he had.

"Dad!"

Arthur looked down at Ron.

"What, Billy?"

Ron frowned at the pet name from his middle name and whined again, "Daaaaaad!"

"Ok, ok, yes?"

Ron grinned, "Happy Christmas!"

Sighing happily, Arthur patted Ron's head and looked at the mess of red hair, wrapping paper, couch pillows, and pine needles.

"Yes, Happy Christmas, Ron."

* * *

The Ford Angelina had been quite a find for Arthur. He'd always wanted a car, wanted to look at the engine and figure it out. He'd found the Ford at a scrap shop with only one tire and apparently missing some vital engine parts. Arthur couldn't tell you which.

"Arthur!"

Molly was calling him from the kitchen. However, Arthur's hands were full and oil was smudged on his face. He wasn't going inside now.

"Yes, Molly?"

"We're having lunch in here, aren't you coming?"

Arthur flipped a page in the car's manual and pointed his wand at the back left tire.

"No, I'll come later. I'm in the middle of this."

"In the middle of a puddle of oil you mean."

Arthur laughed and said a spell to patch the hole in the tire, inflating it at the same time. Knocking his knuckles on the top, Arthur deemed the tire fixed and looked back at the manual.

It was amazing how many different parts and systems were in this one machine! Arthur hardly knew which part of the car did what, even with the manual, after 3 weeks of owning. Still, it was just so fascinating. He'd spent most of his spare time in the garage fiddling with it.

A few Thursdays ago he'd tired to make the engine work. He'd replaced the thing called the 'fan belt' because the manual mentioned one and his car seemed to have torn it up. He'd figured out a spell to give the battery more power so you'd basically never have to replace it. Still he couldn't get the engine to turn over. It took him 2 days to realize that muggle cars ran on gas and Arthur's Ford Angelina had none. He'd devised a way to make a mixture of dragon hide, daisy root, and fluxweed to work as fuel instead, not to mention it was cleaner.

Today Arthur was working on fixing the tires and making them impervious to punctures and wear. He wasn't sure if his efforts were doing any good or not, a knife could still slash the rubber. Arthur wanted to remove that possibility.

"I need a good barrier spell…" Arthur muttered, "or a strengthening charm… but it's an object…"

Arthur glanced at the manual, dripping some grease on the page. Looking up out of the garage, Arthur sighed. There had to be a way to take stress off the tires so they would never need replacing! As he looked out the door a bird flew by and he blinked.

"I could make it fly!"

* * *

Raids could be good and bad Arthur knew. Sometimes the right pointing of a wand would get what you needed, other times you ended up with a burnt robe. Some people almost didn't care that you were taking some old thing that their grandfather or someone had saved. However, more often they put up a bit of a fight. After all most people didn't like anyone taking what they thought was their rightfully owned property.

"I can't believe you dragged me along…"

Perkins was muttering beside him. He looked sullen and kept glancing behind them as if someone was going to yell at them for doing their job. The two aurors with them glanced at Arthur. He just shook his head to ignore it and knocked on the door, wand in hand.

"Who is it?" A screechy voice replied.

"Ministry of ma-"

Arthur was cut off by a curse flashing just over this left ear. They all ducked and Arthur sighed.

"Ma'am we just need to-"

"Get away from my house!"

Looking down at his roll of parchment Arthur looked for the woman's name. Clearly she was not going to be happy that Arthur had been authorized to seize her 'box of ages' which was supposed to drain the life of anyone who opened it without the proper incantation. A ministry census taker had discovered it when a house elf dropped dead while he was in the parlor asking the woman how many people lived in her home.

It just so happened that this "box" was actually a muggle postbox that had been charmed and spelled into this creation. Apparently it was an ancient form of muggle catching, though it couldn't have been too ancient because how old were post boxes anyway?

"Mr. Wealsey?" One of the aurors looked at him.

"Do what you can. I'm afraid we have to go in," Arthur replied.

"Yes, sir."

A tea cup flew past Arthur's head and shattered on the pavement. Perkins groaned and put his clip board over his head.

"Away you scum!" She screamed again, curses flying.

It was going to be one of those nights.

* * *

The Quidditch World Cup was not something one got a chance to attend many times during their life, especially with Ireland playing. Arthur had been so pleased to be a part of it, helping the event and bringing his own children. Their seats were fabulous and Arthur had felt it was going to be a time he would never forget. Sadly he was right for the wrong reasons.

The first thing he did was to get the children out of the tent and away. He knew they were confused and scared but there was no time. Arthur had to get them away.

"We're going to help the ministry!" Bill, Charlie, and Percy were beside him, wands at the ready. "You lot- get into the woods, and stick together." He fixed the twins with a look that said, 'you're in charge.' "I'll come and fetch you when we've sorted this out!"

He had smelled the change in smoke first. When he'd gone to bed it had only been a slight whiff of campfire but the stench of burning fabric closer than it should be had made him jump from his bed.

"Dad?" Arthur turned to Bill who'd spoken as they ran off toward the noise.

"Percy, go and find Crouch. Bill and Charlie, come with me."

Percy ran off to the left with a nod while they continued on. People were running franticly all around them. A witch wearing curlers in her hair, running with her arms in the air, rammed into Arthur, knocking him to the ground.

"Dad!" He heard shouted.

Someone stomped on Arthur's hand and he groaned, pulling it to his chest. Another person nearly tripped over him and Arthur heaved himself away and to his feet.

"Bill? Charlie?" He shouted, but they were no where around.

Pushing through the people, Arthur tried to shout above the sound of the crowd.

"Head toward the woods! Everyone try to remain calm and get to the woods."

Arthur didn't seem to be doing much good but in the end it didn't matter since most people were heading in that direction anyway. Arthur could see tents on fire in the distance and people all around were screaming.

"Help! Help!" He heard somewhere.

"No!"

"Get away!"

"Run!"

Arthur turned left and right, trying to decided where to go. Where were his children?

"Arthur!"

Arnold Peasegood suddenly grabbed Arthur's elbow, pulling him out of the stream of running people. Arnold's robe was torn at the shoulder and he was sporting a bloody nose. Cuthbert Mockridge and Dirk Cresswell were with him.

"What happened?" Arthur asked.

"Woman thought I was one of them and threw her box of money at me. Made five galleons."

Arthur laughed in spite of himself.

"You think he's kidding," Mockridge said, coughing.

"Come on then," Peasegood said, "the squad is trying to control the crowd and get them to a safe distance. Some of the Obliviators have gone to make sure the local muggles are safe. The rest of us are after the Death eaters."

"All right."

"Cresswell and I are going to help the people in the woods," Mockridge said as they turned off to the left.

Pushing their way through the sea of tents, hot ash, and people, Arthur and Arnold went toward the glow in the distance. Getting closer they could hear the screams more clearly.

"Arnold… what is…"

"Oh my God."

Before them the family of muggles that rented the moor was suspended in the air, turning over and over. The wands of more than a dozen hooded figures were pointed up at the struggling and terrified figures. He could laughter and jeers coming from the Death eaters. Arthur felt rage surging through him.

"Vile, inhuman…"

He ran ahead of Peasegood, zig zagging round people and burning tents. Ash threatened to blind him but he ran on. It smelled like the entire field was burning around him. Ahead of him Arthur saw an auror hurling curses at the circle of death eaters. He thought he saw a flash of pink somewhere and he heard Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice.

Sliding to a stop, Arthur caught a Death eater in his sights and shouted 'expelliarmus!' The Death eater moved at the last second and heads turned toward him.

"Blood traitor!" He heard and hit the ground as a cruse screamed over his head.

As Arthur rose to his knees someone shouted, "Dad, look out!"

Jerking his eyes to the left, Arthur saw Bill pointing but didn't dodge in time. Yelling in pain he fell back again, a quick stab of crucio hit him in the chest. However, the caster must have been distracted because the pain disappeared only a second after it hit him. Arthur struggled to his knees and stood up.

"Dad, you alright?" Bill was beside him.

"Yes, where is Charlie?"

"I don't know, we got separated."

Arthur glanced to the side and suddenly saw a wand pointed at them.

"Bill!" He shouted, shoving him away.

He wasn't fast enough however as the curse caught Bill's arm, flinging him backward. Arthur turned quickly, leveled his arm at the caster, and caught him in the chest with a blasting curse causing the hooded figure's wand to go flying and to send him flying back. Whirling around again, Arthur kneeled beside Bill. A deep gash was on his arm.

"It's ok," Bill said.

"Bill…"

"No, dad, we've got to go."

Arthur suppressed his parental concern and helped Bill up. As soon as they stood Arnold Peasegood was at Arthur's side.

"I hit one right in that ugly mask they wear!" He was grinning.

"Well, come on," Arthur said.

The three hurried off to the right trying to follow the voices of the shouting aurors.

"To your right! Your right!"

"Follow them!"

"Don't let them get you!"

"Can't anyone get close?" Arthur asked Arnold.

"No, the outer circle keeps shooting off curses all around. Two aurors are already seriously injured.

"Shit…" Bill muttered.

They were close enough now to be able to feel the extra prickle of curse magic in the air. There were aurors in front of them, wands blazing. He saw Kingsley Shaklebolt dive behind a fallen tent.

"Weasley!" A shout suddenly came

Arthur looked and saw one Death eater mask from the circle turned their way.

"Um..." Bill began.

Then the figure raised his wand.

"Arthur Weasley, muggle loving vile scum!"

Arthur pointed his wand but the curse hit him before he could speak; he hadn't even heard the words spoken. It felt like his bones had been replaced with glass and every movement of his body caused stabs of excruciating pain. He fell over gasping.

"Oh, Mer-" He couldn't speak.

He screamed and gasped, pain at any movement, pain from breathing. It felt like his body was rejecting him, trying to push him out with needles.

"Dad!"

He couldn't' see. His vision was blurred. His fingers hurt, even his fingers felt like they were all broken!

Then it was gone. Arnold was shouting a curse, Bill was at his shoulder, and he was just breathing.

"Arthur, get up," Arnold was speaking.

"Oh…" Arthur kept breathing heavily.

"Come on, Arthur," Arnold grabbed his right hand and Bill grabbed his left. "One, two, three, up!"

They heaved Arthur to his feet making him gasp sharply at the after effects of the curse.

"Was it the cruciatus?" Bill asked.

"No… something else," Arthur responded, picking up his wand with a little difficultly bending. "My bones felt like they'd splintered, like glass."

"Is that my… I've got to go!" Arnold said suddenly looking off to the right.

"Where…" But Arnold was sprinting away with no further explanation.

"Dad, look, Charlie," Bill said, pointing off to the left.

Charlie came running up to them, a rip in the front of his shirt. Amos Diggory was with him looking exhausted and red in the face.

"Was helping…" Charlie gasped, "to put out the fires…"

"We managed to contain most of it," Amos continued.

They all nodded.

"Have you seen Percy?" Arthur asked Charlie.

"Yeah, he was organizing people with Crouch."

"You ok?" Charlie asked seeing Arthur's gasping.

However, before he could answer the sound of screaming increased ten fold and Amos shouted, 'look.' They all turned to where he pointed to see the green, terrifying glow of the dark mark in the sky above the trees of the woods.

Arthur's body inadvertently trembled, images of his children flashing before him. He apparated.

* * *

During the first war Arthur had stayed more on the outside of the fight. He had worked hard at the ministry to try and protect the muggles who were being hurt in a fight they knew nothing about. He wrote laws, confiscated items used to harm muggles but he always worked within the law. Often working within the law had only gotten things done after the damage had occurred.

Arthur tried to protect his family and stand up for his principles during those dark times. But he had to be careful. His first child had been born in 1971, just when you-know-who was rising in power. All that time he had a new family to nurture and protect. He couldn't be the reckless Gryffindor he'd grown into. The calm nature of his pre-Hogwarts days was what he needed.

Now, his youngest child was 14 and his elder ones were a part of the Order of the Phoenix, fighting along side him. Arthur was now within the heart of the resistance, working for the law and outside of it. He couldn't act as he did during the first war now that there was a second.

But even from this part of the fight Arthur could see the caution and fear in his fellow fighters. Many had that look in their eye that asked why they did so much. He knew they had to trek on harder than ever but that didn't mean it was easy.

Even from the inside Arthur could not help, now and then, wishing he could be back out.

* * *

One might not expect it from a son that dealt with dragons breathing fire and burning his skin every day but Charlie loved snow. Love of snow was a common interest which Arthur and Charlie shared. Arthur always thought Charlie loved snow to balance out his love of dragons, hot and cold. Then again in the long view dragons were not terribly active during the winter so Arthur imagined that loving snow helped give Charlie something to occupy his time during the dragon light season.

When Arthur was young he had learned of a muggle activity called sledding. Basically you sat on a fancy board which was usually painted red and rode it over the snow down a hill. Arthur supposed it led muggles to feel like they were flying. Thus, before Molly would allow Charlie on a boom to go snow soaring Arthur took him sledding.

"Are you sure about this, da?"

Charlie was five.

"Of course I am."

The two of them were sitting on a red metal muggle sled which Arthur had bought in downtown London. He had seen these other things called skis there as well. Arthur learned you were supposed to stand on them and go down hills like sleds. Now sleds he understood because you were close to the ground and thus would be mostly safe without magic to catch if you should fall off of the sled. However, the skis were meant to be taken off of what were called 'ski jumps' which propelled you far into the air and to then hopefully land on your feet. Arthur loved muggles and all their ideas but there were times that he questioned.

"Yeah, but what if we want to stop?" Charlie asked.

Charlie was in front and Arthur in back.

"We'll stop at the bottom of course," Arthur replied.

He had to admit he was excited. The snow was perfect now and still coming down.

"Stop or crash?"

For a five year old Charlie was rather cynical.

"Either one…"

"Can I throw the first snow ball if we crash?" Charlie asked, turning back to look at Arthur.

"And I do if we just stop."

They shook hands and shoved off down the slope.

They started off slowly then quickly gained speed. Wind rushed around them, full of snow. The rushing was loud in Arthur's ears but he could still hear Charlie laughing and instantly he smiled. Just before the hill leveled off, a bit faster than Arthur had expected, he realized it did feel very much like flying. They bumped and actually bounced into the air for a moment at the bottom of the hill. Coasting for a moment more they finally tipped over to their right into the snow.

Both Weasleys lay in the snow looking up at the snow still falling until Charlie sat up.

"I told you we'd crash!" Charlie was grinning widely with snow on his face.

He'd lost his hat somewhere and his cheeks were red. Mitten covered hands pushed on Arthur's chest, digging snow into his cloak.

"Crashed, crashed, crashed!"

"We did not. We just tipped over. Not the same as crashing is it?" Arthur said sitting up and pushing Charlie onto his back in the snow.

"Crashed," Charlie giggled up at him.

"We did n-" Arthur was cut off by Charlie hitting him in the face with a snowball.

Arthur shook the snow off him and huffed. "Cheater."

Charlie just laughed and pointed to the sled. "Let's go again!"

Muggles definitely had some good ideas. Arthur did wish more people could see that. Sledding was indeed fun.

When Charlie was ten they went snow soaring. Snow soaring was actually similar to muggle sledding. You flew up on your broom into a snow fall then let go of the handle and allowed the snow wind to carry you around. It could a peaceful ride, just floating about or you could be pulled sharply all around, snow stinging and attacking. It all depended on the snow fall.

"Dad, this is amazing!"

Before they even got a foot off the ground Charlie had liked it.

"Just be sure to grab your broom if to begin to feel unsteady."

Now Charlie could get to the snow before it reached the ground. He flew high up above Arthur's head then let go of his broom, letting it take him slowly downward in a spiral. Arthur had been sure to take Charlie up in a snow fall that was unlikely to send him spiraling downward without his broom to his death. Now seeing Charlie looking up at the snow clouds above him with such an expression of joy on his face made Arthur want to laugh in happiness. When ever Charlie was happy it made Arthur feel doubly so, like he was doing some right.

"Dad, I am now a snowflake," Charlie shouted in a mock serious tone to Arthur as he guided his broom back up.

"A rather big one."

Charlie just laughed and held his hands above his head, snow circling about them.

Now as Arthur sits at the kitchen table with Charlie across from him he thinks of snow. Certainly it has been awhile since the two of them went sledding or snow soaring but its still there. The day is December 12th, Charlie's birthday, but there is no snow outside yet.

"So, Charlie," Arthur asks, "anything particular you want for your birthday?"

"I thought you didn't give me birthday presents anymore?" Charlie is being facetious.

Arthur shrugs. "Well, twenty five is an important age, half way to thirty after all."

"Can you make it snow?" He teases again.

Arthur laughs then his face changes to become serious, "Just for you, Charlie."

It snowed a meter and a half the next day and they went snow soaring for two hours.

* * *

Five years. Sometimes it really didn't seem like it had been that long, but it had. Five years of being a family of eight instead of nine. Five years of saying one name where they usually said two. Five years since the battle, since the war, since the initial loss. Five years and Arthur could still feel the pain in his gut, a constant companion in place of Fred.

"I have the candles," Molly said lining up three red candles on the kitchen table.

"All right," Arthur replied standing at the back door looking out over the back yard.

The house was quiet that night. None of the children lived at home anymore. They were all out living lives and Arthur found the daily quiet and calm somewhat unsettling. For years the household ran on commotion and noise. They shouted and fought and made up and sort of tumbled through life. When one had seven children it was really impossible to make life go smoothly. Arthur would not have changed it. Yet now it seemed very empty.

In the backyard the wind made ripples through the grass, ripples like children running through it. Two small boys who matched in face and demeanor would run and chase the gnomes. George would give Fred a piggy back ride so they could appear larger when scaring them. Before Arthur's eyes he could see them grow: The two of them hiding out behind the shed working on some new clever and probably mischievous idea. The two of them learning how to fly on their broom sticks. Fred telling George about his first crush when he thought Arthur could not hear. Fred sitting under the tree by himself charming the leaves so they were purple or blue.

Once Fred had helped Arthur organize his battery collection for father's day. He'd just given him a very large one which was square shaped.

"It's a car battery," Fred said.

"Muggle cars have batteries? I thought they used that gasoliane?"

Fred grinned. "That too but I swear it's a battery from a car."

It looked a lot different than Arthur's other batteries. It looked more like a box. All the other batteries in his collection where cone shaped or rectangle, pocket sized. Yet sure enough right on the top it said 'battery' along with some other information about + and -.

"Where did you find this, anyway?" Arthur asked.

Fred waved a hand and changed the conversation to something about motorbikes. Arthur noticed the tell tale grin on Fred's face though. He hoped that the battery wasn't from a nearby muggle neighbor.

Looking at the empty grass, Arthur's chest felt tight. Fred had been the quieter of the two babies at night. George would cry at 3 AM and Fred would just lie beside him gurgling softly. Arthur had always wondered why Fred didn't join in the crying chorus with his twin. He thought perhaps Fred just wanted to wait until he really had something to say. Molly just called Fred the thoughtful one.

When they were three both Fred and George had spent the majority of their time following Arthur around. When ever he was home you could expect the twins in his wake. A few times Arthur almost trod on them, not realizing how close they were following. Fred liked to ride on Arthur's shoulders while George was more content to stay on the ground and hold Arthur's hand. He could still remember Fred's small hands clutching his hair, his ears. It was amazing how fast he had grown from a child that could fit on Arthur's shoulders.

Arthur remembered wrestling with Percy, Fred and George once in the backyard. For once the twins were not torturing Percy but where in league with him. Arthur remembered it was the year before Percy was supposed to leave for Hogwarts. Perhaps the twins knew he would be gone soon. So, it had been three young boys against Arthur. There had been a great deal of twisting, tugging, jumping, and falling. Of course Arthur lost. Fred had gained the illustrious honor of sitting on Arthur's chest.

"We win, da," Fred said.

"I can see that," Arthur managed to gasp out. "...oh...you've gotten," he gasped again, " ...gotten heavy!"

Fred grinned and dropped some grass on Arthur's face, "lucky for me!"

"Arthur?"

Molly's voice brought him back and, blinking, saw only grass outside again, blowing slowly.

Turning slightly, Arthur glanced back at Molly. She had placed a picture of Fred on the table. It was one of the few photographs they had of either twin by himself. Though most could not tell his sons apart this photo was unmistakably Fred. His smile had been a little shyer than George's for a long time and Arthur could still see the difference. He also cocked his head to the right when his picture was taken as opposed to George who kept his face straight. Fred waggled his eyebrows in the photo but did not stop smiling.

Arthur managed to tear his eyes away from the picture and looked up at Molly. "Yes?"

"Are you ready?" Molly asked.

They hadn't invited the other children home this year. Bill and Fluer had a baby to care for, Percy was always busy at the Ministry, Ron and Hermoine were still at junior station and needed to be on call, Ginny was expecting, Charlie was on the continent, and George...

In past years they had all come together. All eight of them had sat around the table each bringing a memory of Fred to share with the candles lit. The first time had been the hardest. Seeing George sitting alone had tore straight through to the core of everything Arthur felt. He had never seen a worse look in his life than that of George's face. Arthur imagined it was much they way he had looked when Tank died. The look on George's face brought back the weight of Fred's death more acutely than any story or memory ever could have.

So, they cried, every one of them. Even Charlie broke down telling a story about Fred trying to grow a pony tail to be like Charlie.

When it had come to George's turn he didn't say anything at first, just placed his chin on his hands flat against the table and stared at Fred's picture; tears fell down his cheeks but not as one normally cries. They fell as if they had always been falling, like a river uncontrolled. Arthur had almost stood, gone to his son's side but it was impossible. There was nothing he could have said or done. He couldn't even ease the pain in his own heart, the hole where a son had been.

"Why am I alone?" George had finally muttered.

That was when Arthur had begun to cry.

Time did make the hurt less but it never went away and though Arthur still had six children it would always be the wrong number.

Finally back in the present, Arthur nodded at Molly. He sat down at the table across from her, the picture between them. Arthur opened his mouth but before he could speak they heard a pop from outside. A soft tapping came at the door as it eased opened. They both looked and saw George come through. He had some boxes in his arms.

"Hi."

Arthur heard Molly sniff and he knew she'd be crying soon.

"I'm sorry," George said, "I couldn't not come, I..." He stopped and Arthur could see his eyes were slightly red. "I didn't want to be alone."

Arthur stood up and took the boxes from George's arms. As he did so he noticed George's hands were shaking slightly. Blocking his son from Molly's sight, Arthur smiled, setting the boxes down. On top was a package of Canary Creams. Arthur laughed slightly as he saw them and George smiled in the shy way Fred used to.

"Well... they were his idea originally so... so, I thought they might be appropriate."

"Certainly," Arthur said, pulling George into a hug.

George gripped him tightly as though he might fall down if he did not. Arthur mentally cursed himself for not out right telling George to come. Where else should his son be on this day than with those who could share his pain? Arthur should have known George would come no matter what. They were twins, even in death they weren't totally apart. If Arthur could feel the absence of his son still so acutely then to George it must have been like an open wound which would never close.

Molly came up beside them then and hugged them both. "I'm glad you came, George."

He just smiled at her and all three slowly broke apart, moving to sit at the table. George sat at the head with Arthur and Molly on either side, the picture in the middle. George ran a hand along the frame of the picture. Fred in the frame looked over at George's hand, pushed the frame from within by George's hand with his head. Arthur heard George make a choking sound in his throat. Putting a hand on George's shoulder, Arthur pushed the photograph back slightly from George. Pulling out his wand, Arthur lit the three candles.

"Fred," he began, "we miss you."

* * *

Somewhere along the way Arthur learned that life is never what you expect no matter how much you try to 'expect the unexpected.' People will always surprise you with the good and the bad. You will lose friends, lose family just as surely as you will gain them. You can fear the worst and only get the best or war might break out twice in your life time.

In the end Arthur decided, who could tell when exactly, to always be happy for what he had and to fight to keep it as long as he could. Family, friends, and children were the most important things in life and Arthur would try to never waste the time he had. Arthur lived life.


End file.
